


Lost Year

by snowynight



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Amnesia, Brainwashing, Dark, First Time, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinky, M/M, Masochism, Romance, Slavery, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowynight/pseuds/snowynight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a penal colony where the prisoners are practically slaves, a Vulcan commander sets his eyes on a human prisoner. Genuine affection grows along ruthless manipulation, but a dark secret threatens to destroy both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Year

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for my beta!
> 
> Please see addition note for warning/spoiler

He was in pain. At first it was like burning. His skin felt like branches ripping open. Then he felt as if he were stabbed. Maybe he was really stabbed. He wasn't sure. Then he felt as though thousands of needles were pinching him. He wanted to scream, but he found that he couldn't control his body any more. He was a ball of pain, and it was the only thing he knew. He couldn't see anything. The place where he was was eerily silent. That made him panic. He had no choice but to cling to the pain. It was the only sense he could feel now, the only thing he could trust. Where was he? What were they doing to him? More importantly, who was he? He was... Then he found that his memory was fading. He tried to get hold of it, but it vanished. He knew clearly that he would soon be nothingness, an empty shell, but he was helpless against it. Why were they doing this to him? Tiredness washed over him, dragging him into obliviousness despite his fight against it, trying to claw and bite a way to sanity.

After a long period of time, (or maybe some seconds? He wasn't sure. His time-sense was all screwed up.) he could feel his eyelids again, and he opened his eyes. Sharp light hurt them and made them tearful, but soon a hand covered them. When it was removed, his eyes adapted to the light and saw a man. He had a stern face and cold dark eyes, with inhuman pointed ears. It was then he realized that he wasn't sure if _he_ was a human. He might be... anything. He wanted to say something, but his mouth was dry like a desert. The man seemed to read his mind because he said to him, “Jim. Your name is Jim.“

He might love him a bit at that moment.

* * *

Jim was a prisoner, a criminal coded 8589935681. (A Leyland prime, he thought with amusement.) It was what the nameless people in white suits told him. They refused to disclose any other information even if he gestured to them. His throat felt like he had just swallowed a piece of burning coal, but he was only too relieved to feel that his body existed. _Human male, aged about thirty_ , Jim deduced from looking at the mirror. He was quite good-looking, but he clearly was malnourished. He wanted to eat real food, but even drinking water hurt. The man who seemed to know him was absent during his hospital stay, and Jim was curious. However, he noticed that people tended to be get nervous and quiet when he asked them about the man, so he stopped asking.

When he healed enough that he could walk on his own, he was taken into a big house. The room he found himself in was impersonal, without a human touch. He guessed he should be glad to have a clean big cell. Then he saw the man again.

“Who are you?“ he asked.

The man said, “I am the commander.“ Not even a surname, Jim noticed. The commander dressed too well to be simply his warden. The commander had an air of being used to command. And he knew it.

“Well, how can I be of help, sir?“ Jim put a stress on the word 'sir'. Rather than answering the question, the commander said, “You should change into something more comfortable.“ Jim was then aware that he was still in a white patient's grab. The commander pointed to a bed and Jim saw a set of clothes. Jim changed into them in front of the commander - a hospital stay rid you of any modesty. - and he found that it was a sailor's uniform. It was exactly his size. Then Jim looked at the commander. He was in an uncertain situation and he figured that he should follow the flow, making out the rules of the environment, before making his first step.

“Now take your meal with me,“ the commander said. He left the room, clearly expecting to be followed. Jim did after a moment of hesitation, and they came to a room where the food was already laid out. There was a plate filled with spaghetti and meatballs, and a cup of tea. Jim noticed that the commander had some vegetable dish set before him.

When they had their meal together, Jim asked the commander the question again, but the commander only put in a short order: “Eat.“

When they finished it, the commander said, “You are in my custody and you are expected to follow every order completely.“

“So you are my warden.“

The commander said, “More accurately, you are my belonging now.“

_So I am now a slave_ , Jim thought.

“I will make the rules available to you on a computer terminal in your room. I demand total obedience from you, but I am fair. So read and follow them.“ Then he said, “Escape will lead to severe punishment. You have caused enough death. Stop.“

There were pictures in Jim's brain. He saw himself working in some kind of mine, and he was running with some people. Then there was screaming and shots. Dead faces. The accusation: You killed us. Jim had a headache serious enough that he couldn't sit straight. He held his head in his arms.

Then a hand came to massage his head and he soon felt better. He looked up and saw that it was the expressionless commander.

“Thanks,“ he said. The commander only nodded and left.

Jim looked up the rules on the computer terminal and was impressed by the comprehensive conditions detailing everything from the clothings he should wear (anything laid out by the commander), the times he should take a meal, to whether he should close the bathroom door. (no unless otherwise permitted). He noticed that he was granted unlimited access to the data bank and this was somewhat in contrast to the micromanagement of his life. Part of him was amused. Part of him wondered how he could break the rules as soon as possible. However, there was a part of him who was tired of thinking and only wanted to go with the flow. In another life he had to be a good soldier, he thought darkly, if he so badly wanted some resemblance of order.

A week later, Jim was starting to get used to the routine. The commander allowed him freedom to walk within the house and access to a data bank through the computer terminal in the room. He took advantage of the gym, not quite following the exercise regime laid out for him as a private act of insubordination. He also tried to break the Conway's Game of Life on the computer by independently discovering the pattern he later found was called Gosper glider gun. He slowly got his memory back, mostly of harsh slave labour, pain and hunger, but he remembered nothing from before his imprisonment, no matter how he tried. The last time he tried he lost consciousness and woke up again in the commander’s arms. It was a bit embarrassing.

The commander fed him well; the replicator was programmed to produce food good for human tastes. His needs were usually fulfilled, and the rules were all in the open. There was a time Jim asked if he could change the exercise regime, mostly to test the water, and the commander agreed to him after Jim laid out the reasons. It wasn’t a hard life to live, and Jim suspected that he was basically being kept as a pet.

The commander was mysterious. From the data bank and the little pieces of memory Jim gathered, Jim understood that he was a powerful scientist. Considering Jim was basically held in a prison made of hell, this meant that the commander was bad news. One didn’t rise to such a high position with a heart of gold. Jim should probably hate him, fear him, be angry at him, but to be honest, it was hard to direct negative feeling about a person who had done nothing but treat him well so far.

Jim was lonely. He thought he had to be a very social creature before he was sent to his imprisonment here, because he sometimes could swear that he could hear ghosts of conversations he had had with other people here and there. Even in his memory of when he was back in the mine, he had befriended several people. However, now the only person he got to see was the commander, and he was busy. He found that he was anxious for his return, because he felt trapped inside the house and had a feeling that the world had forgotten him. It was scary. Jim’s skin tingled, his muscles were full of tension, his nerves fired, and he didn’t know why.

_I am going insane_ , Jim thought.

* * *

Jim was getting ill.

The commander noticed it first when Jim left a large part of his favourite dish uneaten during a meal. When the commander asked about it, Jim only said that it was not to his taste and shrugged. The commander only nodded, accepting his explanation. However, Jim seemed to lose his appetite rapidly with no medical reason. He also developed a sensibility to light and sound. He seemed to be in pain when there was a sudden sound and preferred to stay in a dimly-lit environment. He was easy to startle with any sudden changes. However, his actual response rate dropped. He seemed to be numb in conversation, while all the time he insisted that he was fine. After the commander made sure that there were no physical reasons behind it, he researched human psychology.

One evening, the commander looked at Jim sleeping on his bed. Jim’s face was tensed and there was a thin layer of sweat on him. He wanted to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but he resisted the temptation. According to his research on human psychology, humans needed touch to function normally. His Jim was too stubborn to acknowledge his need. The commander wasn't sure why, but he wanted to wait for Jim to be so starved for contact that Jim would look for him to fulfill it. Therefore he had to be patient.

He scrutinized Jim’s sleeping form, turning his eyes from Jim’s face to his broad shoulders, his legs half out of the blanket, and once again wondering about his illogical obsession with Jim. Jim was good-looking, but the first time he saw him Jim was not in a presentable situation. The most impressive thing about him was his fierce and fearless swollen eyes. He became interested because it was not what he usually saw in a prisoner's eyes, which were often dulled by fear and hopeless resignation. The prisoner had stayed and survived here too long to be still delusional and ignorant, yet he still had a fighting spirit. Spock liked the challenge of studying a human anomaly. From that point he had known that he had to have him, to own this independent spirit. He had not made a move at first, knowing that he should consolidate his power before the others realized that this human would be his weakness, but secretly watched over him. When the chance came, He grabbed Jim to keep him. Jim had been well-behaved, but he had a feeling that he would show his teeth soon. It was a good thing he had blocked Jim from accessing his memory from before the colony. The memory of imprisonment could be used as a tool of fear, and fear had to be maintained for respect, but memory of freedom might give his Jim ideas. His eyes lingered on Jim before he left. He didn’t need as much sleep as humans, but he had indulged himself for too long.

* * *

Jim felt disoriented with phantom ache, but he couldn’t identify the source. He wondered whether he still had any lingering injury but he didn’t want to speak out. He didn’t want to show his weakness to someone who might use it as a weapon one day. He told himself he was only biding his time here. He wanted his future to be in his own hand. He thought about what little he remembered about himself as a prisoner. He worked in a dilithium mine and saw people simply wasted to death. When he couldn't put up with all that, he tried to help the others to start a riot. He had their blood on his hands, and he would never wash them away. If only he could leave... He had a feeling that there was a wider world before. It gave him strength to endure and fight back. It was the only thing he could cling to, because without that, what was the meaning of his existence here? It would only cause needless pain to wake up people in an iron death trap. Thinking of those people, he found that his hands shook.

Then the commander brushed his hand and Jim felt if it he had suffered an electric shock. It was so warm, so tender and nice, and it ended so soon. He leaned in the touch and didn’t want to lose contact, but the commander withdrew his hand and asked gently, “Tell me what you want, so I can give it to you.”

Jim felt embarrassed and looked away. Finally he said, “It's contact.”

The commander seemed confused. Then Jim realized that he wasn’t a human and might not know about it. He explained, “Humans like to be touched.”

The commander smiled a very small smile. He held out his hand. Jim held back, too grateful to say anything.

* * *

The commander was working on his research on a new efficient method of dilithium mining in his laboratory. It would increase the output of the mine by 30.637%. He was sure that it would be adopted readily when finished, which would gave him more power in the colony. He knew that no one would blink an eye at the 13.37% job-related injury and casualty rate but he still felt annoyed. Every life was equal before him, similarly meaningless and expendable except for one particular one. However, the body disposal and the resulting hygiene issue still seemed unnecessarily messy to him. He looked at his subordinates’ reports and judged whether to pursue their proposals. Some were promising, such as the psychological studies of human pain tolerance and the improvement of phasers. He approved them, while he returned some of the proposals for readjustment when he saw some potentially interesting idea in them. He checked the security footage to ensure that things were under control, only to find that the secretly installed mental control devices were working well.

As a Vulcan, he found that his knowledge of human nature was often underestimated and he used it to his ruthless advantage, lowering people’s guard, which allowed him to use his insight to manipulate them. That helped his rise in power. He was content not to work in command as he found that it made him too big a target and interfered with his scientific work. He did not fear command, but he did not ask for it either. However, if command facilitated his work, he would not decline it.

When he returned to the house, he found Jim in the sitting room. He sat down beside him when Jim looked up with hopeful eyes. He held Jim’s hand, and Jim lay his head on his shoulder, seeming eager for any contact. He was proud to see that the deliberately cultivated skin hunger in Jim had a fruitful result. As long as he was the sole provider of Jim’s comfort, Jim would be reminded gently of his constant need for his presence. He wanted Jim to get addicted to him. He was confident that his patience and knowledge would ensure success.

* * *

Jim was playing with programming languages to see what he could do in coding. He made a program that would simulate evolution of variety of flowers but he soon got bored with it and wanted more challenge. He looked up information about games in the data bank, and found out that he remembered how to play chess.

One day Jim asked the commander, “Do you play chess?”

“Yes,” the commander said.

“Would you play a game with me?”

“You will lose,” the commander said in a sure voice.

Jim shrugged. “We shall see to that.” Jim lost the first game badly. The commander was a tough opponent. Then he asked for rematch and lost better. The third game Jim still lost, but he was getting nearer to victory.

The commander said, “You have potential.”

“I’ll win against you some day.” Jim didn’t give up and kept challenging the commander. When one day Jim finally won, he could see the commander raise an eyebrow. Jim liked to think that it was because of surprise.

The commander glanced at the chessboard, and then said, “You are good. We should play more.” From then on they had a regular chess night.

Jim was bored. Aside from playing chess regularly against the commander, he was learning several languages and started his project to read the ancient Encyclopedia Britannica for a laugh. He also went to the gym room to work out a sweat, but he still felt that he had too much spare time. He talked about his day with the commander over their game of chess. The commander was silent about his work, even if Jim asked (he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know the answer, but he wouldn’t want to be a coward about this), but talked with Jim about linguistics, science and other topic Jim brought up. Jim was amazed at what a well-rounded person the commander was. He enjoyed their conversations a lot and looked forward to them.

* * *

The commander knew that Jim was intelligent, judging from his survival as a badly behaved prisoner in a harsh environment, but it was still fascinating to see sparks of Jim's intelligence at work so closely. Jim was attentive at chess, reviewing his strategy smilingly, and made bold moves. He admitted to be surprised when Jim won against him, but he could accept his loss gracefully. He liked how competitive and energetic Jim was, which reminded him of himself. He found that it was enlightening to talk with Jim on different disciplines. There were holes in his knowledge, but he could be insightful in his observations. It was most enjoyable to talk with him.

He also found that he had an interest in cataloguing Jim. He had an expressive face, and some of his thoughts were so clear that he might as well be shouting them. The more time he spent with Jim, the more he found the contact intellectually stimulating. Therefore it was logical for him to look forward to spending quality time with Jim. Jim smiled more when he spent time with him too. This was a proof that it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

This week, the commander's suggestion for a new mining method was implemented, leading to a bigger share of profits and power. He took the implementation seriously as neglect will lead to mutiny after repeated inaction. He was satisfied with the preliminary results. Meanwhile, there was an accident in his department and although there were no injures or great financial cost, he ordered a through investigation and discovered that it was because of an infraction of the safety protocol. The staff in question became the first two users of the agonizing booth he had designed there, and it proved very efficient in causing extreme pain without causing injury that would prevent them from fulfilling their duties. He preferred his design to the old-fashioned torture as the research about the use of the booth showed that it led to higher productivity than before. He understood that his colleagues fulfilled unconventional sexual desire through the old-fashioned methods and thought the booth too impersonal. He had no moral stipulation against this belief, but he thought it was unprofessional to mix personal pleasure with professional concerns. That was why he refrained from thinking about or even contacting Jim when he was on duty. He put Jim under constant surveillance, so he knew that his safety was secured. His personal staff understood the importance of their duty.

* * *

One day Jim looked at the window and caught himself thinking that this was a good day.

He was immediately scared. When did he get so used to the life as a pet? It would mean that he had gone against the remaining rebellious part of himself. Without much thinking, he ran to the door and made a mad dash away from the house. The sun was painful as he was too used to the indoors. However, he kept running.

He was caught not far from the house.

When the commander returned to the house, he sent Jim straight to the agonizing booth (so that was what the room was used for, Jim thought), saying, “I have warned you about the consequence of breaking the rules, and this is the punishment.”

Jim didn’t bother to bite back his scream in the agonizing booth, but he wasn’t sure how to deal with the sense of sadness and concern in the commander’s glance toward him afterward.

When he made the second attempt, this time more prepared and he getting farther, Jim had to watch people put in the booth because of him. Jim broke. He didn’t realize that he had burst into tears until the commander gently brushed the wetness away. After that he stopped trying to escape.

* * *

Jim was a strange creature. He was fearless, never hesitated to do what he wanted no matter the price, yet was bound by a set of idiosyncratic personal principles. He was one of the most extreme masochists the commander had ever known, but anyone could break under the right pressure, and Jim was no exception. He was not surprised about the first escape attempt, and he did what he had warned he would do. However, that punishment failed to be a sufficient warning for Jim, and he wanted to refrain from unnecessary pain. He looked through the footage and records of Jim to study him better. Then he observed that Jim was unusually sensitive to other people’s suffering.

When Jim broke, he felt a sense of cold accomplishment, but he also was illogically angry, which turned into a feeling of tenderness, when he felt the urge to pick up the pieces of Jim and fix him better than before. He didn’t regret his actions, because they were necessary, but he took care of Jim afterwards and reassured him that everyone would be fine.

* * *

Jim was getting ill again.

It was like the first time Jim had had a skin hunger, but the symptoms were worse. He practically starved himself, staying in darkness as much as he could, and jumped with any sudden changes. However, his actual response rate dropped. It seemed hard for him to manage complex conversations , while all the time he still insisted that he was fine like the last time.

The commander arranged a comprehensive check-up on Jim and didn’t have a satisfying result. bounces between Jim's conditions and the commander's realizations. When he looked in on Jim, Jim was curled into a ball in the corner of his bedroom, whispering that they were going to get him. The commander held Jim in his arms in bed the whole night. Then Jim ‘s situation seemed to improve for no good reason. The commander was grateful, but the worry and fear never entirely left.

* * *

One day Jim asked the commander if he could go outside for a change of scenery and breathe some fresh air. To his surprise the commander said yes. The commander took him outside for a ride in a holocar. The streets were clean and white. There were a lot of pretty healthy plants from different planets. The buildings were built in many different architectural styles and looked strangely compelling together. Jim tried not to compare this with the dirty and dimly lit mine where he had been forced to work in. He was surprised when he was allowed to walk on the street accompanied by the commander. Several times later, he was allowed greater freedom. Jim noticed that the place was built with pedestrians in mind. The city was well connected and wide. There were well used on-street bicycle lanes and zebra crossing. However, there were not many elderly people, children or disabled people. He guessed it was because of the nature of the place. Most walkers were humans, but there were people from other planets. When he walked along one street, he saw a store with a Gothic stone exterior, which seemed interesting. He walked in and discovered that it was an antique store. There were a lot of ancient books, statues, paintings and tools from the past. When he lost himself in a book, he received a blow to his head and he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

“I’m surprised that the commander wants a little plain creature like you.” It was the first sentence Jim heard when he opened his eyes again. He found that he was in a room not unlike a medieval dungeon, which gave him a sense of deja vu. When did he go to one in the past? He couldn’t remember.

“That ‘s a boring opening line,” Jim commented, earning him a blow to his eye.

“You don’t know much about your situation.”

“Well, clearly I understand my situation. Blah blah blah villains do bad stuff and hit people.”

“Don’t think anyone will come for you.”

“I agree. However, if you were smart enough to know that, why did you do something useless like kidnapping me?”

“You'll pay for your words.” She slapped him hard enough that his head rang.

Jim wondered if he really didn’t have a self-preservation instinct because he couldn’t resist the urge to goad the leader of the captors. For good or for bad, his previous experience in the mine had given him a high pain tolerance, which seemed to disappoint the leader greatly when he didn’t collapse on his knees and beg for her mercy and forgiveness after her rough treatment. She was clearly not deterred and kept getting rougher. When it was finally too much for him, he entered the darkness of nothingness again.

The sound of an explosion and phaser fire woke Jim up, and someone gently took the restraints off from him, and held him in his arms. Jim hissed as his strained muscles were forced to move. He stretched open his swollen eyes and saw that it was the commander, who covered Jim's eyes and said, “Take a rest.” Jim thought that he heard fear and anger in his voice, but he wasn’t sure. Then Jim felt a needle enter the neck. He got tired and let sleep overcome him.

“You need your pain too much,” The commander said, petting Jim’s hair and fussing over him while Jim was as high as a kite in the medical bay. Jim laughed even though his lips hurt. Everything was green and zigzagged. It was so funny.

“I will not let you out of my sight again. You are under my protection,” the commander said in a serious voice, and Jim believed him against his better judgment.

Jim had a quick recovery thanks to the medical care. He didn’t ask the commander about the fate of his captors. He didn’t want to know about it.

The commander no longer took him outside, and strangely Jim didn’t feel the need to ask again.

* * *

Fear and anger were evolutionary responses to the harsh environment creatures experienced. However, with a Vulcan’s perfect control of body and mind, the commander thought that he would be immune to them.

Jim was missing.

The captors were good at hiding their trail, but they did not notice the subcutaneous locating device the commander planted in Jim. With its aid, he soon discovered their identity and the location at which they were holding Jim. He calculated that Jim’s chances of survival in the next twenty-four hours was 92.7% but it was not enough to him. Jim had to be fine, and he would have to adjust the odds by including himself as a relevant factor.

He found Jim covered with his own blood, his eyes closed, his chest barely moving. Not even he permitted himself to lay a hand on Jim, except for Jim's benefit. He took his Jim back to his medical personnels, trusting his security people to also carry out their orders perfectly. Jim woke up the next day, and the commander took extra pleasure in granting the captors a slow painful death before he brought Jim home.

Vulcans were pragmatic and logical, but they also had a brutal warrior heritage that the commander shared. Initially, he thought he could allow the kidnapping to happen with him monitoring from afar so Jim could learn a lesson, but when it really happened, his logic waned before his warrior instinct to reclaim a treasured possession. The intensity of his emotion frightened him.

“Hey, what’re you thinking?” Jim asked, breaking the commander out of his thought.

The commander replied, “You should eat more.”

“I’m full,” Jim laughed.

“You are too thin.” The commander found the fat on Jim’s body interesting, and thought he would like to see him with a softer shape.

“You just want me to be fat,” Jim accused without any heat in his voice. He sighed, “I do think I need more grease and sugar in my diet.”

“Is the food not good enough? I can reprogram it to fit your needs better.”

“I think I have a craving for something, but I can’t remember what it is,” Jim looked confused. The commander changed the topic to Jim’s progress in reading the encyclopedia, because he was too familiar with that look. Jim would then try to recall his memory, no matter the pain it would cause, and he hated to see Jim in unnecessary pain.

When they engaged themselves in a conversation about a species of bird on Earth with an unusual mating habit, the commander looked at Jim and suddenly had a thought that he would only grow more devoted to Jim, and he did not mind it as much as he should.

* * *

Jim never really gave up trying to recall his memory, no matter how much pain he would be in after each attempt. He felt that he had a duty to his past self, to remember him, to not let him perish. One time the commander sighed and massaged his head after yet another of Jim's attempt and said, “It is illogical to hang onto your forgotten past.”

“I am what I am now because of my memory,” Jim argued.

“Even though you might be better off not recalling it at all?”

Jim admitted that sometimes he dreaded the answer, but he still said, “Yes, I want to be able to be held responsible for my past actions. I don’t like ignorance.”

“Is it so important?”

“I don’t want to forget my past self. I don’t want him to be forever alone.”

The commander didn’t answer at first, but finally he said, “Then remember me instead. Let me be your past, present and future.”

Jim’s heart missed a beat.

* * *

There were repercussions from the commander’s elimination of the people responsible for kidnapping Jim. The power vacuum led to more open rivalry. It complicated the political situation, and the commander was annoyed as he was foremost a scientist, rather than a politician. It reduced the time he had to do his research as he had to move cautiously in the political deep waters. However, he did not regret his direct approach in the incident. Regret was illogical. Besides, it would have caused Jim more pain and fear if he had tried the subtle and slower approach, and sometimes just as the humans said, you had to take off your velvet gloves.

Currently he was working on a project to transfer consciousness from people to computers. It could allow a better understanding of neurology and robotics, and the technology would have a lot of applications. He could see a future with cyber slaves, a new culture shaped by replaceable machine bodies and, of course, profit. So far the transfer of consciousness had not been a success, but he was sure that he would have a breakthrough soon, if not for the politics. He hoped it would settle down enough for him to focus on advanced scientific research again.

* * *

Jim discovered a newfound love (or perhaps he had always loved them? He wasn’t sure) for the black and white films produced in the1930s-60s on Earth. He laughed with tears at Monkey Business, and somehow he managed to convince the commander to watch It Happened One Night with him. When they watched the film, Jim was amused by the commander’s questions and observations about Earth people's courtship rituals, which was funny, if not funnier than the film itself. They sat close together, shoulders brushing, and the commander held Jim’s right hand in his hand. Jim found it adorable. Then when the climax of the film came, Jim looked at the commander and suddenly had an impulse to kiss him. He did.

The commander kissed back enthusiastically. Soon Jim found that he was the one to pant for air. Then the commander lifted Jim up and took him to his bedroom. They fumbled on the bed. Jim let out a sound of pain when the commander’s elbow hit him by accident, but he soon forgot about it when the commander practically tore his clothes away, marking him with his firm hands and biting on his neck. Their erections pressed together and their pelvises moved speedily to reach a climax. After that Jim fell sleep in the commander's arms.

They didn’t manage to finish the film that night. Jim didn't mind.

* * *

It had started with small things.

From the voice of the computer AI, to the colour of the clothes in the wardrobe, the commander had subtly exerted his influence and control on Jim’s life. The programmed sultry AI voice was a bit annoying, the clothes a bit too loose now (the commander really wanted Jim to indulge his appetite), but the point had been to get Jim used to the micromanagement of his life. He was glad to see how Jim soon learned to accept this influence without thinking. He wanted Jim’s complete obedience and had told him so outright, and he had shaped it as a sculptor a perfect piece of marble.

Sometimes he marveled at how defenseless Jim’s mind and body were to his manipulation. Jim didn’t realize it, but he was shaping Jim’s mind to be more receptive to his touch, to feel more pleasure in his presence. Jim was a natural sensualist and the impact of just a little bit of manipulation was obvious. He basically glowed when they were together, and never seemed to notice that their physical proximity was getting to be obscene.

But he was overjoyed when Jim initiated the kiss.

* * *

“You look like Spock to me,” Jim said one day. He wasn’t sure where that had came from and was surprised that he said it.

The commander raised an eyebrow in amusement. “To my knowledge, there is not a creature called Spock and I surely am not such a creature.”

“The name. I think Spock sounds like your name.”

“Not many people have the privilege of naming a commander. You have to work to earn it,” the commander practically cooed. The prospect was not actually unappealing, Jim thought. Jim began to use the name Spock to call the commander, who readily answered to it. He noticed that Spock didn’t tell him his real name but he didn’t want to ask about the real one. Spock was good enough as a name.

* * *

Names were useless and emotional. There were no use of them in the colony. Everyone was given a code until he gained a rank in the corporation. The commander approved of the logic behind this. However, he made two exceptions for Jim, once in naming him and once in being named by him. In Earth culture, naming connoted power and intimacy. The commander wondered whether Jim thought of those implications.

They was not the only exceptions he made. The commander had always considered himself a peaceful and rational man, with an even temper. This self-image unfortunately underwent clarification and adjustment as Jim became a constant in his life. Jim was an unstoppable force. He wasn't content to only observe things. Instead he needed to shape things to his will and was headstrong about it. He could be happy and good, but sometimes he just pushed, and pushed. They didn’t have many arguments but they fought hard. For example, the commander wasn't sure why Jim insisted that he could be changed for the better as the commander was satisfied with his life. He also wasn't sure why Jim had to be so angry about it. Jim's craving for pain is insatiable. It made him a nasty opponent in a quarrel. He got the commander angry enough to want to hit something. It was an achievement.

Yet however they argued and pushed each other with words, at the end of the night the commander found that he was pulled to Jim’s side on the bed they now shared together. They held each other close enough to hurt, but never released each other. The next day they laughed and bantered, with an unspoken apology in the air.

* * *

The encyclopedia was a fascinating read. Jim read about the biography of a war hero and military paragon in nineteenth century Brazil, refreshed his knowledge about the parity of zero, and became intrigued by the largest Roman hoard discovered in Britain. He averted his eyes from the entry of Burger's Daughter, skipping to Hubble Deep Field, then he settled on a psychology article.

_Stockholm syndrome, or capture–bonding, is a psychological phenomenon in which hostages express empathy and sympathy and have positive feelings toward their captors, sometimes to the point of defending them._

Jim read the definition from the encyclopedia. He continued.

_In order for Stockholm syndrome to occur in any given situation, at least three traits must be present:_

  * _A severely uneven power relationship in which the captor dictates what the prisoner can and cannot do_
  * _The threat of death or physical injury to the prisoner at the hands of the captor_
  * _A self-preservation instinct on the part of the prisoner_ .



He certainly had an uneven power relationship with Spock. There was always a threat of physical injury, a silent, mutually acknowledged fact, and he liked to think that he had a self-preservation instinct like any other sane person. This surely applied to him.

The problem was that, even armed with the knowledge, Jim still liked Spock. He was hopeless.

* * *

He read that string theory had led to the theory of multi-verse, later supported by strong evidence in the twenty-second century. The philosophical implications led Jim to wonder. In how many universes Jim simply died in the mine? Were they better universes than the one Jim lived in? Why was there a universe where Jim could live free from the consequence of his guilt? Jim remembered a time he had thought people were coming to get him. Spock had told him then that it was a hallucination, but what if his current life with Spock was an illusion he had thought up to escape from the pain and guilt back in the mine? Jim hung onto whatever pain he could feel to try to convince himself that no, he wasn't running away from himself and settling for a false haven. The nightmares that attacked him during the nights were welcoming. Only there he was the past self he remembered himself to be, loved and surrounded by people, to feel their touch on his skin, their voices in his ears. He was a leader, and for some reasons people looked up to him. Then there was blood, screams and the sense that he had made a mistake which had cost others' lives. But it was still better than waking up in sweat and found that he was still with Spock. He wasn't sure how he now lived a life completely rotating around Spock, in which he surrendered control and enjoyed luxury. He tried to resist the temptation to just go along with it. However, it was getting harder.

* * *

The commander had several dreams about Jim.

In one of them, he had Jim in a collar wearing nothing but the marks he put on Jim, following him everywhere in display. People looked at his Jim with fascination and desire, because Jim was lovely, but they could only watch from afar. Jim would enjoy the attention, but he knew whom he belonged to. The dream always ended with Jim kneeling by the commander, his body leaning against him, purring as the commander petted his hair. In another dream, Jim was forever frozen in the position of an embrace, his face content and relaxed. The commander would lovingly touch and kiss him, to worship his Jim who now would stay with him and was happy about it, free from unnecessary worry. There was a third one in which Jim was laughing under the sky. While planets were destroyed at their whim, Jim kept smiling and completely focused on him. It was illogical, but the commander did not attempt to stop these dreams.

* * *

“Stand up. Strip.” Spock ordered.

The cold voice made the hair of Jim’s back stand up. He did as he was told, taking off his clothes in a series of fluid motions, not trying to put on a show. Spock liked efficiency.

“On your hands and knees. Crawl to me.”

When Jim reached Spock, Spock idly rubbed his hair. Jim waited for the next command and leaned into the touch. Then Spock pulled him up.

“On my lap.”

Jim did. He felt a bit exposed with his ass in the air, but it was fine.

“Count.” This was the only warning he had before Spock started spanking him.

“One, sir. Two...” Spock’s strike was powerful and precise. Jim gasped because of the heat and the delicious pain. He couldn’t help raise himself to meet Spock’s hands. The striking pain led to pleasure, and Jim got hard. He was tempted to rub it on Spock’s lap, but Spock wanted him all begging and desperate, so he tried to be good.

Then the spanking stopped. Spock told him to kneel to the bed, staying perfectly still before leaving. Jim grew to be more and more uncomfortable, hypersensitive of his sexual desire. Time crawled.

Then he heard Spock return, and he joined him on the bed. Spock took his time to prepare him, never mind Jim’s squirming and begging. Then he entered him and pushed strongly, and Jim wanted to cry.

“Touch me,” Jim pleaded. “You can come when I tell you to.” Spock thrust into Jim, striking Jim’s prostate, and Jim didn’t stop to continue to beg, but his words broken into incoherence with every step closer. Then Spock said, “Come.”

Jim’s world exploded as he did.

Jim was floating in a space where felt high yet comfortable, and he felt Spock cleaning him with a piece of wet cloth. He was given some water, and Spock whispered to his ear that Jim was a good boy, all warm and affectionate. He drank in this moment.

After that Spock cuddled him. It was a bit uncomfortable as Spock’s body was hard without any spare fat, and hot, but Jim only held to him closer to enjoy this moment of quiet comfort.

* * *

Jim once mentioned his love for antique books in a casual conversation with Spock, and the next day Spock returned to the house (not home, never home) and brought him antique books in great condition. Some were in standard languages, some in languages he had newly learned, and he noticed that one of them was in a language unknown to him. He asked Spock about it but Spock only smiled and didn’t answer. After a long period of research, Jim found out that this was a collection of poems in the language of a planet called Vulcan. He decided that his next goal was to learn the language to know more about the meaning behind the gift.

* * *

Jim loved reading. He was also a bibliophile. He had a childlike gleeful look when he had a new book in his hands, and he was enthusiastic in share his thoughts about them. The commander found that a positive bonding experience, so he ordered antique books from around the galaxy for Jim. They were an expensive purchase, but it was worth it to see Jim’s grin.

There was a secret message behind the commander’s purchases, starting paradoxically with the one in the language he knew Jim could not understand. He knew how Jim liked a challenge, and just as he had predicted Jim was eager to get into the Vulcan language. He encouraged him, with the hope that one day Jim would decode the system and understand his message.

Jim was an interesting creature. When they were playing chess against each other, Jim always claimed to make moves due to a “hunch”, “luck” or “gut instinct”, but there was always an underlying logic in his strategy. For one who was as full of light, energy and openness as this century pretended to be, he was fascinated with the Victorian and Western periods of Earth, which must have been full of occultism, Gothic horror, blood and conflicts, judging from his love of literature from that period. The commander suspected that this was behind Jim’s love of pain. It seemed such a fitting image after all.

The commander was proud of himself as a scientist, so he tackled Jim’s love of pain in a systematic way. However, he soon discovered that Jim was so devious and eager that he pulled him right in, and in Jim’s body he experienced the true pleasure of giving pain.

* * *

“You really love your pain,” Spock said. Jim was too far gone to answer.

Spock had to be a good scientist, Jim had thought earlier (at times when his thought were more coherent), from the way he systematically went on to deliver different kinds of pain to him. He whipped him with different kinds of whips, smacked him with paddles and rods on different parts of his body, and stepped up to an agonizer. Jim just lay here, enjoying Spock’s experiments, faithfully reporting back what worked or what didn’t. Spock listened to him attentively and stopped immediately when he cried out for not liking something. At the end Jim could only feel that he was devoured by pain and pleasure. He thought Spock loved giving pain to him too, judging from his enthusiastic thrusts that followed.

“It’s amazing,” Jim said when he finally collected enough of his brain cells to be able to talk.

Spock answered softly, “I am glad.” He held Jim closer to him, and Jim soon drifted to sleep with a sense of safety.

* * *

Jim knew that he was slipping. The problem was that he didn’t know whether he could or should stop it.

In the morning he would wake up with Spock spooning him. They had breakfast together and a morning kiss before Spock left to work. Then he had the house to himself until Spock’s return. He kept himself busy at the gym, and learning a variety of things. He started to practise paper art and got addicted to it. Spock indulged him by providing a wide variety of beautiful papers. He began to try to replicate an origami master's work and wondered how he could talk Spock into allowing him to make 3D laser cut paper art. The intricate Gothic architectural pattern he saw in the data bank was simply gorgeous. He continued with reading the encyclopedia; had fun watching the old open lecture video on moduli theory. Most recently, though, he had discovered the joy of old video games and became addicted to Tetris. He was not unhappy, but he still felt a stupid delight when Spock returned and devoted a large part of the night to him. It was so sickly sweet and domestic (except for their sex life), and Jim was getting addicted to it.

It was dangerous.

Jim still had nightmares about people's screaming and accusations of him as a killer, but hard as he tried, the nightmares were fading and the memories were losing their power over him. He needed the pain, and this was the cross he should bear. However, it became less real with Spock here, his arm around him.

Jim was honest with himself enough that he could admit to himself that he was in love with Spock, enough that he couldn’t drive himself away from the one whom he should fear and hate. However, Spock and Jim had already spent a long period of time together at this point. Jim knew that he was, if not happy, at least coping with captivity. He felt a sense of guilt sometimes, when he was curling against Spock reading a book, thinking of the others’ suffering. He didn’t want to like this, to be a corrupted soft creature, but he lacked the will to resist temptation in the form of Spock. One day he lashed out against Spock because he wanted to be punished for his sin.

Spock did punish him hard. After that he held him in his arms and said that it was important for Jim to be good. Because Jim was Spock’s favourite, Spock would only divert his anger to other people. “So you see?” Spock cooed, “You’d better be good if you want others to live.”

To demonstrate his point, Spock went over people's profiles on the data bank with Jim, of which Jim recognized some as previously familiar to him. Spock talked about what he could do to them, starting from reduced food portions to enlistment as experiment subjects, which Jim knew was a fate worse than death. He ended his description with a promise that he would keep his hand away from those others as long as Jim behaved. Jim thought it was a comforting lie - he didn’t believe he had a huge effect on Spock’s decisions. - but he clung to it any way.

* * *

The commander had always had a fascination with genetics. He was always keen on working with basic life materials, to twist and control them, to assert command over nature. He was supervising several teams working on mixing the genes of humans and other species to produce a better hybrid for better labour sources. It was wise to encourage inter-team competition to produce a better result. He had a personal project in progress of uplifting native lives to sentience, based on his belief that genetics was the current war front. Another project was to produce super soldiers with modifications to ensure a limited shelf life and complete loyalty to the buyers, learning from the mistake of past scientists. They attracted investors from outside the Federations and provided further insight for science, although he understood that currently most scientists outside the colony would be too afraid to review their results, citing that their procedures were inhumane, but at least he had his staff as a scientific community that had basic knowledge of the significance of his work.

Under their special working environment, the people who tended to be productive and thrive were those who scored highly on anti-social behaviour scales, and highly creative people had a strong need for personalized means to handle stress. Therefore he gave a lot of freedom to his subordinates to carry out idiosyncratic research. The fruit of science always came unexpectedly, he thought.

One very bright individual on his staff had an obsession with forced inter-species breeding, and while the commander could see a more efficient way to achieve the goal, he allowed it to carry on because it had the additional benefit of enhancing the productivity of the individual’s team. His security chief was a military woman, with a very creative and unorthodox imagination in punishing traitors and insubordination, so he encouraged her initiative. Fear was a very effective tool. Pleasure was another.

He had people referred to him as cold-hearted in various situations and a variety of languages, which he accepted as an accurate qualitative assessment. Science was cold logic and should not be complicated with feelings. His rapid replacement of the previous holder of his current position was proof of that. Three people had wanted to challenge him while he had held his position, and they had all disappeared without a trace. The commander was pleased with the lack of nuisance from other factions to make similar attempts up to this point. He preferred the cold, fearful and respectful distance people kept with him.

Jim was different.

Jim did not fear him. He did not avoid him. Jim was always interested in him not only as someone in control of his life, but on a more personal and undefined level. The commander initially had found this fascinating and curious, and now he found it highly pleasant and something he wanted to encourage. There was a part of him that was challenged and shaped by Jim, and he did not find this a bad thing, to his surprise. It was not always easy to be with Jim, but he liked a good challenge. He also developed an addiction to Jim’s happiness. He would choose to return to the house early to see Jim, to find out more about Jim’s new-found interest and desire and to help him fulfill them, to care for Jim’s well-being. He wanted to pamper his Jim so that he would never know the limits of his desire. He wanted Jim to be content with him. It was a scary feeling, but the commander never dreaded his fear. Therefore he would be Jim’s world, not until death would they part.

* * *

It didn’t take long for Jim to realize that Spock was a vegetarian, and always ate similar dishes. With so much time in the house, Jim had fun looking for recipes from different places and programming the machine to produce different vegetarian dishes, in his pursuit of finding dishes that would shake up Spock’s palate. However, he found that the result didn't taste good. He remembered the clean fully-equipped kitchen in the house so he decided to cook them the old-fashioned way. Spock agreed to buy ingredients for him with amusement. The first time didn’t end well, to put it nicely. Jim was too stubborn to give up. He experimented further with the recipes and finally he was confident about his cooking. Jim discovered that he liked working with his hands, really feeling the texture of the raw materials and shaping them into an edible dish. The first time he made dinner he prepared white gazpacho soup and a dish of raw banana peel curry served with rice. Spock raised an eyebrow when he saw the dishes. He finished them and said, “Fascinating. I did not expect you to be talented in cooking.”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“Indeed,” Spock replied.

Another night Jim prepared a chickpea burgers with mint raita and tahini slaw, accompanied with roasted tomato hummus. They shared the meal amiably and had a conversation about food. Jim was glad that Spock seemed to enjoy them so much that he asked for more and started to think of what to cook later.

* * *

Paper art requires a pair of steady hands, a pair of sharp eyes and a brain for careful design. For the paper castle Jim was making, he needed to look at the original photo, to design a pattern based on it and drew the blueprint, making use of the negative spaces to bring out the image. He felt good when he saw the result, but it was the process that was most important to him. When he finished a project, he learnt a lesson and started another project, never looking back. He was attracted to layered texts and abstract pattern, and experimented with stacking papers to make a three-dimensional effect. He love geometry and symmetry. However, he was also intrigued by the possibility to make paper diorama with a busy world of animals and plants, or the elegant origami work aimed to capture the real life. He liked to put his completed work here and there, and soon he found that he could hardly go into a room without seeing something he made. He felt stupidly proud about that.

* * *

The commander learned that art for a very long period of time on Earth was considered an expression of individuality and emotion, which was an alien conception to him, as art in Vulcan was created to serve the society, to lead the audience to enlightenment. When Jim spent a lot of time looking at art in the data bank, the commander decided to proceed as if he were doing a case study: providing Jim with supply for different medium of art and observed him in a controlled environment.

Jim played with water colour paintings and clay at first. Then one day the commander saw that Jim cut up the paper in the art supply and folded them up absentmindedly. The commander didn't comment on it – he didn't mind the cost of the papers, but he worried that it was an early sign of a relapse. The next day Jim looked at him sheepishly and asked for folding papers. The commander agreed to it, curious about what Jim's intention was.

Jim started with folding polyhedron and shapes that he claimed similar to flowers on Earth. Then his work got more complex and had a wider variety. The commander enjoyed watching the science and mathematics reflected in the work – they were so elegant and clean – and found that he had a wave of positive emotion while watching Jim devoted to his projects. Jim liked to litter the house with his work and the commander found it pleasing. He did wondered about the choice of paper art, which unlike paintings and music, received less focus in human psychology and aesthetics study. Jim seemed to like to act in contrast to expectation, and his explanation for it was not satisfying. Jim only said he liked to work with his hands. Was it a way to get sensual stimuli and channel the suppressed aggression? The commander needed more data to reach a conclusion. Until then he would continue his observation.

* * *

The commander knew Jim was bored. Jim was like a perfect diamond that deserved to shine in the suitable lighting. He deserved to be seen. He was intelligent and resourceful, even if he had forgotten all his past. Sometimes the commander wondered if he should train him to work with him, as an equal, to be his partner. However, this would mean he would have to let Jim out, to be admired and loved by others as was his due, and in a darker way, made a bigger target of attempts on Jim’s own life, because Jim shone, and there was no other way to hide his light. Jim also was an adrenaline junkie and had no self preservation instinct. The commander did not want him to be hurt.

There was another reason. Jim was a decent person, and the commander knew that Jim still had a moral core inside despite the life they had together. He didn’t want to break Jim this way with slow controlled exposure to corruption. He could manipulate Jim to a certain extent, but at the end he wanted Jim for what he was. Therefore the commander decided to keep Jim close to him, to allow Jim access only to him. He liked the idea of Jim being his possession alone.

* * *

Jim loved fairy tales. In a fairytale, fantastic things could happen. The sun could be too sorrowful to emerge from its cave. The plain strange old woman in the wild forest commanded snow and death. A woman’s tears could overthrow a city. On the contrary, something remained so much unchanged that it was a life or death matter whether to listen to a talking fox; it took three to finish a quest and remember, never pick a flower.

Jim wondered whether these principles could apply to his life with Spock. Were there any fairy tales that there was a land of Saturnalia, where people were completely free from all kind of power structure? Were there any tales where a bird with broken wings could heal and returned to the mighty sky?

Jim vaguely remembered that there was a fairy tale which he wanted to read. He didn't remember what it was, but he wanted to read it with a burning desire. Once he got it in mind, he frantically searched around the data bank to no avail. One day he talked to Spock about it and was surprised to find that there were no fairy tales in Spock’s culture. “They're illogical,”Spock said.

“For a person who said, 'Fascinating' a lot, you‘re really missing out on stories of the fantastic,” he teased.

Spock said dryly, “I am glad to be deprived of such treasure.”

Thus Jim decided to educate Spock about Earth fairy tales. Jim told Spock the story of the Sleeping Beauty, which led to a slightly unusual discussion about the spinner and needles. It led to an enjoyable night in a certain sense for Jim, but not exactly the sort that Jim had had planned.

He tried with the Little Red Riding Hood next, and Spock’s comment was that it failed to spread a positive message about wolves.

Somehow it became a competition, where Jim tried to find the most ridiculous story for Spock to pull apart. Spock seemed to enjoy it because there was one time Jim made him smile a big smile. It was a big achievement. Jim was pleased.

Then one day Jim came across a book called “One Thousand and One Night” in the data bank. When he started to read it and came across the line, “Thus Scheherazade began her tale,” he couldn’t read on and closed the file.

* * *

The commander was amused by Jim’s illogical fascination with the stories catalogued under the fairy tales from Earth. However, Jim clearly saw it as a mission to educate him about this unusual literary phenomenon so he tackled it like a proper scientist. He researched.

As befitted the whimsy of the genre, he found there was ongoing controversy about the definition and history of fairy tales. He was also interested in how a story could adapt, dramatically changing from its original form and gain new meaning. For example, Jim told him a story about Sleeping Beauty and his version was based on a two-dimensional film, where the prince was a hero and the princess became the reward for his courage. However, the earliest version he could trace showed the characters in a different light, with power struggle and attempted political assassination. A similar thing could be said for Little Red Riding Hood, a story that seemed to have its origin in the eroticization of prepubescent human females.

Further research led to scholar works about structural analysis on fairy tales, which appealed to his logical mind's inclination to break down stories to their smallest elements, and analyze the repetition of functions in the structure.

“In the fairy tale the values involved are generated through the structural opposition of the negative and preliminary test and/or between the heroine and her antagonists,” the commander read. “The fairy tale addresses emotions not only on an artistic level, but also within a framework of myth.” The commander paused to reflect on the stories Jim had told, and tried to find an underlying structure in them. It would be beneficial to achieve a more comprehensive understanding of Jim through the study and so enhance their relationship.

The commander never got to finish his analysis.

* * *

Sometimes, Jim had to admit that he was content with his life. Spock pampered him, and the sex was good. He didn’t want to think about the future. It was stupid to expect anything. Carpe diem was his motto. Spock seemed to want him to be there for Spock to look at and be stupid, so he willingly turned a blind eye to everything that might be happening in the outside world. The thing he shared with Spock was fragile, temporary, and probably one-sided. At the end of the day Spock was a powerful figure here, while Jim was just a prisoner. Logic deduced that he was just a toy for Spock’s amusement for now, and he would be deluded to think that he was in control for anything.

Did he want it to be something more? Jim tried not to think about the question. It was foolish and probably Stockholm syndrome speaking. Even if - and this was a big if - Spock had some genuine affection for him, Spock was logical and ruthless enough not to let it affect his reasoning power. There was nothing to be gained from that, and it would only lead to drawing a target on Spock’s back. Jim had a healthy ego, but to imagine he had such power to move Spock... well, he wouldn’t believe it even in a dream.

He pressed a kiss on Spock and still was surprised when he was pulled into an embrace. He let the passion to wash over him, and for now put his concerns aside. Whatever would be, would be.

* * *

In Jim's quest to learn Vulcan language, he came across this.

Before the reform on Vulcan, there were legends.

Legends spoke of people of the air. They were hauntingly beautiful, but they were as treacherous as the the dry river courses and as deadly as sand storm. They hunted people and took them to their home in the sky to suffer from their fickleness.

There was a young woman with hair as dark as coal, with a flame in her eyes as fierce as the desert sun. She had a lot of pursuers but she rejected all their advances, until a golden youn man of the air descended from the sky and abducted her to his domain.

For seven years the young woman was sculpted into a decoration in the house for display. Every night she was broken into pieces. Every day she was shaped into another form. She had no mouth to scream, no eyes to shed tears, but her heart longed for the hot red sand of her home, which finally set her on a course to freedom. There were not enough words to describe her despair when a capture seemed imminent, her pains when thorns tore apart her fresh.

But hope overcomes all.

When she returned home, no one could look straight at her without forgetting the lirpa in their hands, the crying babies in their arms. She glowed without the assistance of sunlight, and you could hear the oasis in her voice. The young woman became a wanderer. Rumour had it that she would dance all days in the desert, only to celebrate life and pain.

It was not a life worth living if you could not laugh until you cry, the woman taught. Her wisdom spread throughout the land.

It was before the day of Surak, and the Vulcans lived as they willed.

* * *

Jim had a recurrent dream.

Two cyborgs kissed.

There was one time he could only see their metallic lips.

There was one time he could see a maze built by their extension power cords.

There was one time it led to an orgy.

There was one time both cyborgs were female.

There was one time they killed each other with their kisses.

There was one time a platform shoe made out with a military boot.

There was one time he saw himself in the reflection of their eyes.

There was one time they were gaseous creatures.

There was one time they kissed under a ladder.

There was one time they were Apollo and Hyacinthus.

There was one time he heard the bottled laughter of an audience.

There was one time the sky poured.

There was one time the one in platform shoes looked sadly at the one in military boots.

There was one time he knew that he was a ghost trapped with them forever.

There was one time one gaseous creature devoured another.

There was one time they had black cat ears.

Someone was going to have a field day with him, Jim thought.

* * *

Jim knew that something was wrong when Spock returned to the house one day earlier than usual, his body tense. He abruptly ordered Jim to pack things important to him. Then Spock took Jim to his hover car and drove out quickly. They arrived at a garage and inside Jim saw a spaceship.

“Why?” Jim asked as he followed Spock into it. Something bad must have happened but he wanted Spock’s confirmation.

“Starfleet is coming.” Spock answered when he went to the pilot position. Jim wasn’t sure what to think about it. He should be glad about the possible end of the tyranny in this colony, but he worried about Spock’s safety. He wasn’t sure what Spock’s fate might be if he was captured.

“Will you be all right?”

Spock started the spaceship and said, “You will be safe.”

“I’m talking about you.” Spock didn’t answer for a while. Then he asked, “Do you care?”

“Yes.” The answer burst out of Jim.

Spock said in a softer voice, “Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched, we will never part until our deaths.”

Jim couldn’t describe his feeling. It was like his heart was about to explode. He only managed to say, “No, we won’t part from each other.”

Jim sat back to the seat, and fiercely hoped the words would hold true for them.

* * *

Spock remembered.

He had been the First Officer and Science Officer of the Federation’s flagship Enterprise, which had then just ended its five-year mission. He had gone on a trip with his captain, Jim and the shuttle had crashed after an attack. People there had found a use for him as an excellent scientist and brainwashed him to work for them, and he did a good job. Jim had been thrown into the mine to work him to death.

Their captors had never expected that he would be able to leave the colony, and after a certain distance from the planet he was free from the alien brainwashing device's influence. Memory returned like a dam being broken, and it was only his Vulcan mind practice that prevented him from total collapse. He knew he would be acquitted of any crime in the Federation court because he did his work good enough to destroy the evidences when he heard about Starfleet's imminent arrival. But there was someone who would suffer from it forever, because of Spock’s sin.

Jim was sleeping deeply on the bed.

Spock quietly entered it and contemplated his sleeping form. His eyes lingered from the brown hair, the lips that he wanted to kiss so much, the now rounder stomach under the blanket that he wanted to pet, to his thighs. It would be the last time he could indulge himself. He put his fingers to the meld points on Jim’s face and whispered, “Forget.”

The next day Spock set out for Gol.

**Author's Note:**

> unhappy ending


End file.
